


Changing for the Better

by Faetality



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Anal Sex, Creature Chris Argent, F/M, Good Peter Hale, Incubus Chris Argent, M/M, Multi, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Sex Club, Sick Chris Argent, Succubus Chris Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faetality/pseuds/Faetality
Summary: “Not going to What? Come back? Feed? One of those isn’t an option unless you’re suicidal and the other is risky. I figure you’re going to need to feed once a week. Especially since you’re newly turned, you could spread it out over a couple of humans but again- practice. There’s no guarantee that you won’t drain them.”“Why are you offering this? What’s in it for you?”“Mind blowing sex and an Argent in my debt. I like you, Chris. I actually do, you’ve got some weird moral compass the rest of your kind lacks and you’re pretty when you aren’t pretending to do the whole soldier boy schtick. So yes, I’m offering to be a source until you figure out control. Of course, it’s not a fix all, succubi need variety otherwise you start missing out on key elements but for the beginning it shouldn’t hurt.”So they strike a deal.-Chris gets turned by an incubus (or maybe it's a succubus he's not too caught up in the details and Peter is the only one to offer help.
Relationships: Chris Argent/OFC, Chris Argent/OMC, Chris Argent/Peter Hale
Comments: 9
Kudos: 121





	Changing for the Better

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbeta'd and was a monster to work on. It is split into three main parts ( porn, porn with feelings, and some feelings), I do hope you enjoy.

“How about you and I get out of here?” The voice is smooth, much like the hand that slides down his arm. The woman is cover-girl beautiful, long brown hair that falls in waves, dark eyes framed with winged lines, and pouting lips. Chris smiles but shakes his head,

“Sorry, I’m waiting on someone.” Ruby lips part in a smile that flashed too white teeth. 

“I could wait with you.” It’s tempting. He was three weeks into a hunt that had been as frustrating as it was exhausting. The woman was stunning and even as he feels his lips form the word “Sorry” he regrets his decision. She simply smiles again, softer, and her hand lingers before she slips away. No hard feelings. She rejoins her friends near the old jukebox and ten minutes later he’s joined by his contact.

“Argent.” 

“Rollins.” 

“How’s hunting?”

“Slow, not much coming out of the brush right now.”  _ Not many leads.  _

“Well, lucky for you I’m here to help.” A drink is placed in front of him, Amber liquid three fingers high in the glass. Before he can ask the bartender nods across the room “from the lady.” the pretty brunette waves from across the room. Rollins gives a low whistle under his breath. 

“You’re taking that home, right?” Chris shrugged. “Come on man.” The whiskey burns going down but it lingers almost sweetly on his tongue.

“Maybe I will.” 

*

Rollins leaves with a file of what Chris had collected so far and Chris steps into the cool night air knowing that all he had to do was wait. He’s crossing the gravel lot to the pickup. Behind him the door opens, spilling light across the ground and letting laughter float in the air over the refrain of a Hank Williams song. A small crowd comes from the bar, the chatter of conversation mixing with the crunch of gravel. He turns his head to see a shadow break from the rest and start toward him. 

“Still waiting on that company?” 

“Not anymore.”

“Well, then might I interest you in a bit more?” 

A man could only say no so many times. 

*

There’s a bra on the back of the chair, a pair of high heeled boots by the bed, and when he rolls over his back aches in lines of heaty from shoulders to the dip of his spine. He’s sore and heavy- content- somewhere the shower is running. He stretches. The shower quits. The woman- she had given her name. What was it? Amelia? Anna?  _ Andrea. That sounds right _ .- exits the bathroom. She’s barefoot, shirt from the previous evening clinging to her damp skin, hair damp and twisted up into a loose knot. She saunters over, drops down on the edge of the bed, “How you feeling, handsome?” 

“Like I could use a repeat of last night.” She laughs, pulls on her boots. 

“Sorry, but a girl’s gotta work.” Her lips are soft against his own and when they part he sighs. “I’ll see you around, handsome.” He watches her leave and feels nothing for it. 

Three days later he’s standing beside Rollins, quiet as they watch half an acre burn. The coven had been dispersed of in just an hour, four bodies lying underground over a mile from where the men now stood. Three members had left the county, Chris was certain they wouldn’t cause trouble again. By the time they had dug the graves and gathered the items that refused to burn he was tired down in his bones. Rollins had a storage locker to take care of the items, “It was good working with you Argent.” 

“You too Rollins.” He stays until the sirens come close, the fire department only a few minutes out before he leaves. It’s not too late when he gets back to the motel but he just barely finishes a shower before he collapses into bed and falls asleep.    
He wakes halfway through the night with sweat on his brow and pain in his stomach. His feet hit the carpet, his head spins, vision blurs, he stumbles but ultimately makes it to the bathroom where he loses the contents of his stomach into the toilet. There’s a part of him that protests when he rests his cheek against the porcelain but the greater portion of his aching body simply enjoys the cool relief the action brings. He moves to get a washcloth but ends up heaving again - it happens twice more before he has nothing left to lose. His body protests as he levers himself off the floor and he’s tempted to just sit back down but he persists; washes his face, rinses his mouth, and drapes a clean, damp hand towel around his neck before staggering back to the bed.    
The next time he wakes he still feels like he’s been hit by a train but he drags his body from the bed and in forty minutes he’s on the road. It was a nine and a half hour drive to the Beacon Hills county line. It took eleven hours, three stops for gatorade and only one to lose it. He considers it a win. His apartment is stale, the way any home was after being closed up for two weeks but he can’t find it in himself to care. He drops into bed and passes out again. 

*

If he didn’t know better he would have said he was cursed. Three days of feeling like death and still he could hardly drag himself from bed. Then, when he finally does drag himself to the store to stockpile as much chicken soup as he could carry he has to run into none other than Peter Hale. And run into him he did. 

He turned from the shelf and took two steps while wondering what the difference between brands were and collided with another person. Am apology was half of his lips when Peter’s face registered. “You look terrible. Is a common cold going to end the Argents line?” 

“Fuck off, Hale.” 

The wolf’s lips parted on a report before he froze and drew a deep breath, leaning closer to the hunter than Chris was entirely comfortable with. He inhaled again. “Hale, I’m serious. Cut it out.” He wished it sounded even a bit like a reprimand and not a whine. 

“Oh, you really are in trouble, aren't you?” There’s something like understanding in Peter’s eyes. It’s almost enough to make a man scared. Chris chooses anything instead. He chooses anger. 

“Shut up and get out my way before I decide you’re more than just a nuisance.” He pushes forward but Peter’s hand on his arm stops him. If he were steadier he would jerk away. But he’s not so he doesn’t. The shiver that runs through him forces his teeth to click.

“Argent.” Something changes in Peter’s features and Chris doesn’t know if it’s something in his eyes or the way his lips part as though his next words may be _ sincere _ . But he doesn’t respond, he waits for him to finish. “If you find you need assistance, or maybe some enlightenment, all you need to do is ask.”

Chris doesn’t know what that means and he doesn’t much care to ask. He manages to return home without an accident and heat the soup before his body drags him under again. 

*

_ “Oh, oh god- Chris-  _ Chris _!” Nails drag down his back, dig whip thin red lines into his skin while pretty painted lips drop please in his ear. “Harder, harder please- that’s it! Don’t stop.”  _

He wakes disoriented. His head is still dizzy and pounding but he finds his feet are steady when he goes to stand. He was getting better.  _ It was just a bug. That’s all.  _ It’s a good thing that whatever it was that had a hold of him is going away. He has a meeting with Gerard this evening, he had been planning on canceling but now it was far better to go and be done with it. 

“Christopher.” He takes a seat across from the man, ignoring how his headache grows worse. “How was the hunt?”

“Taken care of with no problems.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yessir.”

“Good.”

The meeting was tense but he got through it and at the end, when Gerard has driven off and he was sat behind the wheel of his own vehicle his stomach seized. He felt empty. He’s just eaten a full breakfast plate but still, as he rested his head on the cool leather of the steering wheel, he wanted more. 

_ You’ve not had real food in days. It’s normal.  _

He was still hungry six hours later. Empty bags of trail mix, chips, fruit peels, and even two bowls of cereal and a carton of eggs hadn’t taken that feeling from him. If anything it has only gotten worse. To top it off the fever had returned. He was sweating bullets, starving, and nothing he did helped. He dozes for a bit; wakes hard as nails and feeling empty in more ways than one. He feels like he’s dying. 

Maybe he is. 

*

His vision is swimming when Peter opens the door. 

“What’s happening to me?” 

“ _ Oh, Christopher. _ ” It isn’t an answer. “You let it go on far too long.” 

“What. Is. It?” Somehow he ends up inside, the door closed behind him and the wolf holding him up in the hall. 

“You’re turning. Or, maybe more accurately you’ve already been turned. And now you’re starving yourself.” He feels like he’s being  _ studied _ and if his stomach wasn’t trying to eat itself he might get defensive over it. As it is he can’t even muster the thought to wonder why. “You fell in with an incubus. Or maybe a succubus. Hard to know.” 

“I-  _ what? _ ”

“You know what it means, Argent. Now, it’s your choice. Starve to death or feed.”

“I can’t- I won’t kill someone.”

“You don’t have too. You just need a willing participant who can keep up with you. So, what do you say? I’m here, you’re here, and I can’t help but wonder.”

“No.”

“Don’t tell me that you’ve never thought of it, of how nice a good,” the wolf crowds closer, “hard,” breath on his neck “fuck would be? About having me on my knees?” Chris’ head falls back and his knees go weak. Then Peter is gone. And the pit in him widens. 

“I need an answer. You’re still in your right head, well, as much as you can be.” Peter was many things, rapist was not one of them. “Yes or no?”

“ _ Yes.”  _

Peter drags the man onto the couch, sinks to his knees and undoes Chris’ fly. The creature under his hands craved touch, that the slide of flesh on flesh alone was enough to soothe some of that ache in his stomach. For a moment. He has no doubts it will be nowhere near enough far too soon. Peter strips him slowly, running his hands over each inch of bared skin. “That’s it, let me help.” The idea of having the mighty Christopher Agent being in his bed was enough to make him hard. But this right now? This is about Chris. 

Once he’s naked and the wolf as well, Peter kisses his way up the man’s chest. Chris is fever hot and his hands clutch at Peter’s hips like a man possessed. The kiss is dirty, nothing but raw need and it stops only when oxygen becomes a problem. “You want me to suck you off or something else?”

Chris has to think. Thinking is hard. He just wants to come. Why is Peter talking? “Your mouth. God please, your mouth.” The wolf takes his time, teasing just a bit as ke licks at the head and finally,  _ finally _ , sinks his-  _ too hot, so good, so perfect- _ mouth down on the hunter’s cock. He bucks his hips and fingers slide into Peter’s hair and  _ pull.  _ Chris lasts a bit more than a minute and if he wasn’t so relieved he might be embarrassed. 

With the release comes a sudden clarity. Brief though it is. 

“You said- god.  _ Fuck! _ I can’t believe this.” 

“If you change your mind the door is there.”

“My father will kill me.”

“Not if he doesn’t know.” 

“How couldn’t he?”

“Well I don’t believe he’s psychic and I doubt he’s privy to who is in your bed or we wouldn’t be in this situation, so, as long as you’re careful you’ll be just fine. Now, the bedroom is the second door on the right, feel free to go get comfortable and I’ll get some water and snacks for later.”

“What if I drain you?”   
“You won’t. Humans have far less stamina than wolves and you’re newly turned, if you start to pull too much I’ll simply tie you down. I have no doubt you’ll learn control by the end of the month. Given… practice.” Chris wants to wipe that smirk off his face. Instead he goes to the bedroom. The orgasm took the edge off but the pit was still there. He didn’t know how this was supposed to work. All the lore on incubi and succubi was… conflicting. They survived on bodily essence, they fed on the primal energy, they lived off of others' life force… Chris wasn’t sure where he lay within those or if those were true at all. Peter arrives to pull him out of his thoughts. 

“Have you ever sucked cock before, Argent?” 

“I- no?”

“Hm. I wasn’t expecting to give lessons but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You seem like a quick learner.” Peter kisses him again and he shouldn’t enjoy it as much as he does. Shouldn’t enjoy the almost there taste of himself on another man’s tongue. The twinge of almost pain in his gut makes him push the wolf back. Luckily, he seems to know why. “Alright, no need to be pushy. Get on your knees, pretty boy.” 

Peter enjoys pulling strings. He likes watching life conform to his plans and he loves watching his partners submit to him. He thinks watching Chris Argent follow instructions might be the most satisfying thing yet. He’s honestly quite beautiful, the way years of training has defined his muscles in a way totally different than Peter’s own, how his eyes are so bright they might even be called glowing. “Open up for me,” Chris is hesitant but as soon as Peter runs fingers through his hair and whispers “you’re doing so good, relax your jaw a bit, good. You’re amazing.” The man throws himself into it.  _ Who knew, Chris Agent has a praise kink _ . The first time he gags Peter pulls him up a bit but Chris fights him with the same stubbornness that got them here in the first place. “Slow down, take your time now and later I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll wonder why we weren’t doing this two years ago.”

Chris let’s Peter direct after that, with shallow thrusts into his mouth and a warning before he comes. Peter wipes the corners of Chris’ mouth with a gentle thumb and something that, were it anyone else Chris was looking up at, could be called awe. He pulls the hunter back up onto the bed and pushes him to lie flat. “Feeling better?” 

“A bit.” his voice cracks and he tries again. “It’s helping, I think. But I’m still…”

“Hungry?”   
“ _ Empty _ .” 

-

Peter spends half an hour leaving marks on the man’s skin, kissing down his neck and chest, nipping at his hip bones and then, slowly, carefully, opening Chris up on first a finger then two. When Chris is twisting in the sheets, hands restless and his mouth making pretty whining noises, so close to begging that Peter almost keeps teasing just to hear them continue- it’s then that he flips him, gives him half a second to drag a pillow close enough to cling to, and adds that bit of extra slick before sliding into the hunter. It’s like he belongs there. Like Chris was made for this. For him. He almost says as much. Almost. Instead he places a single hand on the man’s back and feels him shudder and shake, every heaving breath accompanied by a tightening of the muscle around Peter’s cock and Peter just  _ basks  _ in it. Because otherwise he’s going to lose control. Chris might be the one who needs this but Peter is the one who is going to remember it in technicolor detail. 

“You’re perfect, you know that? Never felt anyone as tight as you.” he rocks his hips, slow, testing. “I’m going to  _ ruin  _ you.” Before long Chris is rocking back to meet his thrusts, making half aborted noises like he isn’t  _ allowed _ . Peter just can’t have that. “Let me hear you, Christopher. Come on.” He picks up the pace until he has a constant stream of moans and gasp coming from his partner and he can feel his own orgasm coming on. He slips a hand between their bodies, determined to feel Chris spasm around him. He gets his wish. 

The fuck twice more before passing out. Peter comes to with a hard on and the feeling of someone kissing his thighs. When he focuses it’s to find Chris between his legs with a glazed over expression, half hungry-half drunk. “Gonna ride you.” The man- no, that wasn’t quite right. Not in this moment- the  _ creature _ growls, crawling up the wolf’s body. “Gonna make you  _ howl _ for me. You’re so pretty, thought about it for so long. Used to wonder about your mouth, wondered if it’d be as pretty bruised up.” It’s like the floodgates have been opened in the time he’s been asleep. Something in Chris had been unraveled and this… this was what escaped. Something unashamed and _ hungry  _ without the desperation. The creature that is now Chris Argent takes hold of Peter’s cock and sinks down on it without a bit of warning. He doesn’t know which of them moans louder. 

In his iris there’s an edge of silver, wicked bright in the darkness of the room and Peter bares his neck when too sharp nails drag down his chest. Chris just keeps talking. 

“Perfect. God, you feel good. Gonna keep you.”

Chris rides him like there’s something to prove and Peter barely keeps his claws from tearing into the sheets. By the sixth round even Peter is tired. He cooks while Chris is dozing, sprawled over the sheets like a big cat and almost groans when hands slide around his waist before he gets two bites in. 

“ _ Still hungry. _ ”

“Chris, I need to eat.” Lips press below his ear. 

“Could blow you.” The absence of the pain that has first brought him stumbling into Peter’s apartment was addicting. Now that he knew how to sate it, well… “Please?” So that’s what he does. There’s a part of him that is horrified by his actions. Scared to death he’s losing it and even more scared that he’ll never find that balance. 

It takes until the evening but he manages. With Peter fingering him with one hand and using the other to stroke him he feels everything fall into balance. Almost over full but so much better than the pit he’d been carrying. He sighs and feels Peter settle down beside him. 

“I think that’s enough.”

“Oh thank the moon. I was about to phone a friend.”

Chris can’t tell if he’s joking. The wolf is asleep before he can ask. 

*

Chris didn’t run the next morning, though it was a close thing when he recalled all of what had been said and done in the previous forty eight hours. Instead he slipped his way out of the wolf’s arms and showered, scrubbing his skin until it was red. He exits the bathroom to find Peter gone and the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. 

“How do you feel?”

“Full.”

“Good.” The Wolf sets coffee in front of him and his stomach turns at the memory of the last time he attempted real food. “You’re not starving for energy anymore, you should be fine just take things slow and in small amounts.” He sips the coffee and finds Peter to be right. It doesn’t make his stomach roll if he’s careful. “So, how often can I expect you over?”

“I don’t- I’m not going to”

“Not going to What? Come back? Feed? One of those isn’t an option unless you’re suicidal and the other is risky. I figure you’re going to need to feed once a week. Especially since you’re newly turned, you could spread it out over a couple of humans but again- practice. There’s no guarantee that you won’t drain them.”

“Why are you offering this? What’s in it for you?”

“Mind blowing sex and an Argent in my debt. I like you, Chris. I actually do, you’ve got some weird moral compass the rest of your kind lacks and you’re pretty when you aren’t pretending to do the whole soldier boy schtick. So yes, I’m offering to be a source until you figure out control. Of course, it’s not a fix all, succubi need variety otherwise you start missing out on key elements but for the beginning it shouldn’t hurt.” 

So they strike a deal. 

Once a week Chris packs a bag and goes to Peter’s. It always starts with a kiss. Testing the waters and seeing how hungry Chris is that day. Never as bad as the first time. He knows better now. Then they screw around until the sun comes up the next day and find a list of kinks a mile long within that time.   
The first time they break the routine is when _ Chris  _ shows up exhausted. Too tired to think about anything more than sleep Peter sits with him on the couch, laptop pulled up to some document Chris can’t decipher. “Well, we have a few options here. You can sleep, and we’ll take the loss for the time, you can still feed - either sit in my lap or use your mouth, or we can try passive feeding but you look like you’re too exhausted to focus on that.” Even though it’s been two months, Chris has trouble forming the words. 

“Can I… I think I’d like to suck you.” 

“Alright, give me a moment.” He comes back to the room with a blanket and pillow, the blanket is set to the side and the pillow goes on the floor. Peter sits in front of it on the couch. He doesn’t have to be told to kneel between them. “How,”

“Just relax, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.” The laptop goes to the side table, the wolf’s sweatpants come off, and fingers play with his hair until the tension melts from his body. He hardly notices when the head brushes his lips but it’s easy to close his eyes and take more into his mouth. There’s no urge to rush to the end and at some point he simply lays his head down. It’s nice. 

“I’m going to fuck your mouth if that’s alright.” He hums, relaxes a little further as his head is cradled. Peter comes with a sigh and wastes no time in gathering him up and jogging to the bedroom. It’s dark outside. He didn’t think he’d been here that long. He must say it aloud cause Peter says,

“Almost three hours. Now don’t worry about it, go ahead and sleep.”

The second time, some two months after _ that _ , Chris is on a hunt. It was suppressed to be two weeks and they had planned for that much. It went over into three and by the time he’s back in town that pit is edging it’s way back into his stomach. He shows up at Peter’s half hard and with eyes so dark they’re almost depthless. 

He ends up tied to the headboard after two rounds, Peter snarling when he tries to break free and Chris snarling back just as loud. Peter caught the hint of a fang as he did. Then the wolf is sitting on his chest. “ _ Control yourself, Christopher.  _ You’re pulling too much, too fast. I’m going to give you what you need. I always do, but you need to breathe and help me.” 

Control is hard. But he manages. Peter doesn’t untie him, instead he rides him, hard and fast and with the thread of claws just barely dragging lines down his chest. Then he takes a break, forces Chris to wait and calm himself before throwing Chris’ legs over his shoulders and taking him that way. “There you are, pretty little monster aren’t you? Insatiable. Gods, I could keep you.” Afterward Chris notes the bruises on the wolf’s hips, the ones that fade too slowly and the lines left down his back. The way his teeth left imprints… he feels accomplished. He feels like it’s  _ good  _ that the wolf knows he’s been claimed.  __

It’s the last time they let it go that long. After that Chris starts working more actively on his control. It’s a nice system. For a while. 

* * *

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know, I still feel sort of… sluggish?”

He’s laying on the couch with his head in Peter’s lap, the other man reading some book that Chris  _ knows  _ is out of the YA fiction section of the bookstore but Peter has denied it every time. The wolf turns his focus to the incubus in his lap. They weren’t sure exactly what subspecies Chris has turned out to be but the rush on that wasn’t half as high as it had been for learning control. Peter studies him, seems to turn over words in his head and then swallow them before repeating the process. 

“You may have to start finding other partners.” Chris thinks the word he wanted to say first was  _ ‘prey’  _ and he’s glad the wolf stopped himself. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for that.” 

“I could scout around, bring someone into both our bed. It would cut back on the risk.” They both knew their arrangement had its limits but Chris was hoping for another month at the least. Though they had pushed it too far already. This wasn’t something meant to last forever, exclusivity wasn’t in his nature. At least not in the bedroom. “What do you think? Another supernatural or human?”

“Could another wolf keep quiet? About me?” His name was infamous and if Gerard found out… he’d be dead by the evening. Blood or not a monster is a monster. 

“I didn’t say wolf. But if we’re thorough then I believe so. Does that mean I should start looking?” 

“Yeah, I think it does.” 

The woman that Peter brings in is pretty in a fae sort of way. Then Peter introduces her and Chris understands the irony of the thought. Riona Freechild was a Fae woman with freckles over her nose and her red hair in a pixie cut. She was a bit more than five foot tall but when she spoke he couldn’t help but listen. They met in San Francisco in a hotel bar, and shared two drinks before their party moved to the suite Peter had rented. 

“When Peter called me I was sure he was joking.” swift fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. “After all, a hunter turned sex demon isn’t something you get offered every day, especially when they’re supposedly as pretty as he claimed.”

“Oh?”   
“Oh yes. Though I really think he understated your eyes. They’re something else.” They tumble into bed and Chris catches sight of Peter in the bathroom doorway, watching them both with hungry eyes. Then he’s too busy to keep watching the wolf. Riona rolls from the bed after a second orgasm from Chris’ mouth and drags Peter down over top of her, ignoring the incubus to their left. We he reaches out she tuts at him, “Now, now. You’ve had your fun. You just watch for a moment.” 

He doesn’t need to touch to feed. It’s a revelation they don’t talk about until later. Until Chris is sated and lazy with fingers inside Riona while Peter teases her clit. A thank you and an indulgence both on their parts. 

“You didn’t know-  _ oh, do that again- _ ”

“We’ve not had the pleasure of exploring in that way before.” 

They talk more a week later, Chris laying atop the sheets while Peter showered. 

“That was good. I liked it.”

“But?” The wolf was too perceptive for his own good.

“But I don’t think I want too do it often. I don’t like not having you with me.” 

It’s the closest he’ll come to admitting any feelings he has about their arrangement. 

“You said you felt something when it was just me and Riona, right?” 

“I did, it wasn’t as strong but it was something.” Peter makes a sound, then Chris’ phone rings. 

-

“Who have you been sneaking off to?” Kate was as subtle as a hurricane but at least they were alone. 

“No one.”

“Oh it’s serious then? Come on brother, tell me! It’s a girl, is she not in the know? Or is it a guy? Oh it’s definitely a guy. Don’t worry I’m not going to tell dad on you.” She sits cross legged on the motel bed and grins. 

“Is he a good lay?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Oh don’t be such a prude.” 

He laughs. If only she knew. 

-

Peter tells him the plan over dinner. It makes his eyes flash and Peter grin. “I take it you like it then?”

The club is a bit outside the main part of the city, a large parking lot giving it the air of privacy so desperately needed. As they enter Peter keeps a hand on Chris’ lower back, guiding and grounding all at once. They hand over I.D. At the door and after a bit of scrutiny are allowed through. 

The energy hits him like a punch to the stomach. The place was clean, it wasn’t like it was a shady hole in the wall, but desire was sunk so deep into it’s very walls that there was no way he could escape it. Then there’s the  _ people _ . All there for pleasure in some form or another. Whether it be for a drink and sympathetic company, a partner for the evening, or to bask in the ability to watch others take their pleasure. It was the purpose of this place, and for a creature like Chris that was  _ intoxicating.  _ He’s glad suddenly for the hand on his back. 

Most people are dressed modestly compared to what Chris had expected when Peter told him where they were going. Nice shirts and pants, some wore crop tops and skirts, and others still wore mesh and leather get ups but they were the minority. Peter leads him to a lounge area, presses a kiss to Chris’ neck and disappears. Chris takes the time to look. There were two hallways off of the main room. One was lit in the same low, comforting light that the main room was and Chris thought he saw the flash of a restroom sign he was angled just right. The other was curtained off and, based on what he knew of the building, led to a much larger area. Peter comes back with two glasses in his hands. 

“It’s just water.” It takes all of ten minutes for them to be approached. It’s a young man with long black hair and tattoos twisting over the skin they can see- arms and collarbones and Chris suspects the black around his eyes may be ink as well rather than khol-like makeup. He moves with feline grace and asks if he can sit across from them in a smooth accent Chris cannot place. They, of course, welcome him down. 

“Is it your first time here?” He asks knowingly. 

“It is, but don’t worry. We’re not shy.” The man laughs, showing a wide smile and deep laughter lines for someone Chris would wager hardly ten years his senior. 

“That is good to know. My name is Zadi, if you would like a more thorough tour please do not hesitate to ask. It would be my  _ genuine  _ pleasure.” Chris looks to Peter and the wolf shrugs. 

“Is now a good time?” 

Zadi is, so far as Peter can tell, a bartender for Noctis- the club he had found for Chris and himself to play- and mostly human. He had nothing to suggest otherwise but instinct; but instinct is a powerful thing. The man stands nearly half a foot taller than himself and Christopher both and seems more confident in his skin than even some of Peter’s cousins. A hard thing to say of most non-wolves. He likes him though. So they explore. The main part of the club was furnished in leather and comforting lighting, a few pool tables and dart boards around the edges. It was, all in all, not much different than any high end bar or club he had been to elsewhere- except for the touching. People here were far more giving, nothing too solicitous but all the same. The main part was made of two rooms, the bar and the lounge. Through the lounge led to the rest of the building and that was what intrigues him most. 

The hall had three doors, maintenance, office, and another restroom, before opening into a darker room. The smell of sex was everywhere and the sounds made him adjust his pants. “This is the playroom, well, playrooms. The main floor is for demonstrations and mingling. If you continue on you’ll find ones dedicated to certain tastes and farther back there are a few private areas- though you’ll need staff to allow you into them.” The tour is thorough, showing them through the rooms - one decked in red with whips along the wall, another in delicate silver and blue with a woman walking another through how to properly edge her sub, another with suspension equipment- and then their guide begins introducing them to ‘regulars’. There’s Ekaterina, a Russian woman who eyed them both with a smile, one hand never leaving the hair of her partner as the younger girl sat at her feet, shivering with the vibrations of a toy only Peter can hear. Then John, a large man demonstrating delicate knotwork to a few others at a table, everyone there greeted their host fondly and Chris and Peter just as so. Mia, Shawn, Emily, Rafael, the list went on. 

“Shall I leave you to yourselves then?” Zadi asks, hands curling around a pole as though he might try his hand at dancing on it. 

“How late do you work?” It’s Chris who asks and Peter looks approvingly. Chris doesn’t need it, but it’s good to know his… his partner - yes, might as well call him as he is- approves of his tastes. 

“I am free after midnight.” 

-

They don’t participate that first night, or the second or third, twice they are accompanied back to Peter’s by Zadi and once by Ekaterina and her sub but they don’t engage for a while. Chris practices his control, feeding slightly on the passive energy in the room and then discussing how it felt once their guests had left. They don’t always have guests afterward but it’s nice to add some spice. 

“It’s harder when it isn’t directed at me.” 

The first time they play it’s with Chris sucking him off in the main room while Peter watches a demonstration on whipping. It’s nice, they keep pushing. It’s a year and a day after Chris shows up at Peter’s door when Peter gives him an outfit and tells him he has a plan. Whispers it to him as he dresses the man. Chris thinks he might not make it to the club at all but Peter insists. 

The room has a platform in the center with a hundred options for restraints, Peter puts Chris on his knees atop a table, high enough the wolf doesn’t need to bend to reach any part of him. His knees are spread by a bar, hands bound in front of himself with silk rope. Peter asked him if he could blindfold the incubus before they ever set foot in the club and, after some hesitation, he had agreed; now that same blue silk covered his eyes. On the far side of the room, where Chris is facing, sits a large window facing the hall where anyone could walk by. Another window is behind him. The room itself is not exceptionally large, perhaps twenty by twenty at the largest wager. There are two doors in the room, Peter doesn’t close either. Inclined to let people wander in and out as they please. 

“Are you ready to start?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Peter began by running hands over every inch of skin on display, not a scrap of cloth covering the man except for the blindfold, once he’s sure he’s relaxed the wolf picks up a riding crop. It’s something they’d played around with once and he knows that now it will be a nice warm up. There are one or two eyes on them but it’s still early. By the time he is pleased with the red of Chris’ cheeks there’s at least two more people. He slaps a hand over one ass cheek and revels in the hiss he receives. “There’s a good boy.” 

He spreads those same cheeks and taps the base of the thick, black plug he had watched the man work into himself before they left that evening. The remote sits firmly in his pocket, with a tug and twist of the base he shoves it deeper and lifts the remote for their viewers. If he was nice he would start it on the lowest setting. Peter is not nice. He flips the plug to six and grins when Chris jolts, a cry falling from his lips. 

“Oh, baby. Were you not prepared? Oh well.” He trails fingers over trembling shoulders. “How about we give you a distraction?” The slide of his zipper makes Chris whine, already straining forward. He’d been so hungry before they left, but Peter had promised a treat so he’d waited. He’s still waiting. “Mind your teeth, sweetheart.” Peter doesn’t touch him, lets him take the cock down his throat at a steady pace, only fisting a hand in his hair to hold him at the base. Chris struggles a moment, then relaxes. Peter hasn’t steered him wrong yet. “I’m going to fuck your face now. I’m not going to stop until I come or you do, but if you come before me I’m going to have to punish you.” The wolf fucks fast but he holds his strength in check, for now. Tears are soaking the blindfold by the time Peter presses leg between Chris’ legs and lets him run off on his pant leg. The incubus comes with Peter’s cock still down his throat. The wolf tuts and then finishes himself with his hand, tip of his cock resting against Chris’ lips. 

“I did warn you.” he jacks the vibrations up two more notches and catches Chris by the hair when he lilts forward. “Tell me what you want, I can either wring you dry or…” he lets his eyes wander to the windows, more for effect than actual need for thought, “you can perform some  _ charity. _ ”

“Ch-ah- _ charity? _ ” Chris asks like they haven’t discussed this. It’s cute, Peter thumbs at his lip. “You have some fans, I think it would be rude not to help them come since you so clearly had your fun. Don’t you?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You’re lucky I know that you’re mine, sweetheart, otherwise I might be jealous.” Zadi walks into the room and Peter grins, knows the man will both get the word out as well as make sure the others know that this is show. He’d chosen his participants long beforehand, the bartender would keep the others in check. Peter kneels behind his boy.    
“Well? Go on, open up.” 

He contents himself to playing with the remote, the noises Chris makes when he thinks the vibrations are through only to have them jacked back up at the same time the cock in his mouth presses against his airway are delicious. “ _ Gods his mouth.  _ Such a pretty whore.” There are few people Peter would allow those comments, this man is one. “You should keep him stuffed all the time, Peter.”

“He would enjoy it.” The man comes with a breathy, punched out noise, and pets Chris’ hair. He pauses another moment and grins. 

“I’m sure he would.” 

Twice more Chris’ mouth gets used before more feminine hands run over his shoulders. 

“May I?” a voice asks, oddly familiar. 

“Be my guest.” A chair is pulled up and then his face is being pressed against a warm cunt. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. It could be minutes or an hour when he feels Peter tug on the plug and he spasms. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” The woman says and Peter shoves two fingers in too the knuckle as a prompt to continue. The wolf fingers him leisurely, until he’s aching to come again and willing to beg for it by the time slick gushes over his chin and he’s allowed up for air. 

He can hear the rustle of clothing and slide of skin on skin but there’s a reprieve from anyone but Peter touching him. 

“I’m going to fuck you now, going to use you until you can’t even remember what being empty feels like. But tell me, you want them to just watch or do you want them to come on you?” the words are whispered into his ear and it takes a moment to decide. 

“Just you. Use me.” 

“Whatever you say, baby.” 

Peter curls a hand around his throat and places another on his thigh. He fucks him like there’s something to prove. 

“ _ Gods I wish you could see yourself. _ You’re such a perfect slut, you’d let me do anything to you. Just let anyone use your mouth if I say it’s okay. You have no idea how perfect you are, making such pretty noises. I’ll never get enough, could keep you on my cock all day, you’d love it. Wouldn’t even protest if I tied you to the bed- perfect. All mine, isn’t that right? You’d let every man and woman in this  _ building  _ use you but you’ll always come back to me.” the hand on his thigh slides to his cock and starts to bring him to orgasm. The hand on his throat tightens briefly, then slides up as well.”But you won’t do that. Because you’re  _ mine _ .” Suddenly he can see. He can see the faceless figures beyond the window, focused on him and him alone. He can  _ taste  _ the energy in the air and locks eyes with one of the women  _ in  _ the room. She groans and there’s another pulse of energy and he’s absolutely  _ drunk  _ with it. It’s so much he feels full to bursting and Peter just bites a claim into his skin and keeps talking. About how he’s beautiful and how every person in their would kill for the chance to touch him. He sees Riona in Zadi’s lap, a hand up her skirt and then he feels Peter pull him that much closer. When he comes Peter whispers praise in his ear and it’s as good as the whispers in the hall. Better even. 

The wolf pulls out, lets lube and cum slide down Chris’ thighs. 

“If you’ll excuse us, I think I have a mess to clean up.” there’s some chuckles from those basking in the afterglow and Chris stumbles into Peter’s chest when he can finally stand. 

“Did you like your present?”

“ _ Oh yes _ .” 

* * *

“Would you run away with me?”

“I-  _ what? _ ”

“It’s just a question.” 

“Yes, but why?”

“Is that an answer or an acknowledgement?” 

“I- okay. Why the question?”   
“Because I’m tired of sneaking around. I want to drag you to pack meetings and having dinner in the  _ town we live in.  _ I want to be able to call you without making sure you aren’t in a hotel room with your father. Because it’s been  _ two years  _ and I want to hold your hand in public.” 

“Peter, we can’t”

“We can! That’s the problem! You’re twenty seven years old, Christopher!”

“I think I need to go.”

Chris calls Kate, who seems annoyed about being interrupted doing whatever she’s doing but shows up at his place anyway. “Did I ruin your night?”

“Just had a bonfire planned, is all. But I think my big brother’s midlife crisis can make it wait a while longer.”

He pours them both a drink. Downs his, pours another. 

“I think I want to leave.”

“Then go.”

“I mean for good. Go on my own. Lose Gerard’s number and do things my way.” 

“What’s brought this on?” 

“Found something worth following I think.”

“Is this over a guy? Is this over  _ that  _ guy. Jesus, it’s been what? Over a year? You’re a better liar than I thought.”

“Not lying, just not telling the world.” 

“Well, I won’t tell him if you run off but you’d better keep me in the loop.” 

Chris smiles. Yeah, he might just leave. 

He tells Peter as much two weeks later, when his sister is lying in a coffin and his father is threatening war. No. A massacre. He tells Peter he’s done hiding and they should leave. Peter tells him no. He isn’t sure what to do with that.

“My family was nearly  _ burned alive _ . I can’t just leave now.” Chris shrinks back, tries not to do it. Peter catches his hand and continues. “But you could stay and join us. We could protect you, you could help us. Keep the peace. Then, in a month, in another year, we can go to Barcelona or Greece or anywhere you want.” It’s the offer of more than just a fling, it’s almost more than if the wolf had pulled out a ring and gotten down on one knee. “You could be  _ pack _ . I could convince Talia, I know I could. No more hiding, no more running. Hell, no more  _ being scared _ . You just have to say yes.” 

He does. 

He joins the Hale Pack and he watches Gerard Argent scream and curse at him from across parlay lines. He stands with his back straight and looks Araya Calavera in the eye as he displays the sins of his blood. He shakes hands with the Merryweathers and he stands in front of Amalie Hale when Gerard points a gun at her head. Two months and the Hales had proven- though wary- kinder than twenty years of parenting had proven Gerard. He raises his voice as he lays out the strange circumstances of not only his mother’s death, but of twelve other hunters in the Argent clan or adjacent. He sends it to the Hunter’s Council. Lays out his own kin’s death sentence. Be it as it would. 

Six months and a fair amount of fights later he’s on the beach with Peter, standing knee deep in the waves and letting the sun soak deep into his skin. There’s not another house for a mile and the breaking waves soothe something deep within him he hadn’t known was restless. 

“Do you regret it?”

“Hm?”

“Coming to my door that day. Do you regret it?” Chris gives the question the time it deserves. Then he smiles at his wolf, touches the ring on his hand, 

“I don’t regret letting things change. I don’t regret being happy…

  
  


" Now come on you big sap, we have dinner plans.”


End file.
